Power Trio

Anise is frowning into a camp mirror and plucking her brows when the brassy peal of the muster bell summons Pack Voraag to a meeting. The whistles and calls as they assemble sound relaxed enough. Hopefully, it’s nothing like an emergency. She sets her tweezers back into her paisley grooming kit and pokes her head out of her yurt into a brisk, bright morning.

Dee’s strolling past from her yurt, one hand tight around Nick’s as she leads him down the hill. Her wild hair has bits of flower petal and silk sticking out. Holy shit; there’s a hickey the size of a fucking helipad on Nicholas’s neck.

Anise clears the shock out of her throat. “Dee? Is everything okay?”

“Howdy, boss.” The packmistress is moving with fluid ease. Nick waves from over Dee’s shoulder; his face is glowing. “Everything’s good. Just a few bulletins before we pack up for Tarouna.”

“Should the Earth crew hear it?”

“Not a bad idea, if you feel like rounding them up.”

Anise gets her pit crew together and knocks on Legendary’s trailer door with enough urgency to extract them from bed. The Earthling delegation descends from the hilltop to join a growing crowd of pack orcs milling around the central circle. Dee’s hauled a bench into the middle of the knot and stands on it, pulling Nick on to join her. Rarek climbs up, too. Anise’s lips purse. What is going on there?

“All right, Voraags,” Dee says. “This’ll be quick and in English on account of we’ve got the Earth folks joining us. First order of business. Had the bonfire rite last night. Those of you who held it down at camp have first pick of assignments for a week and everyone’s gratitude. So rub that in our faces when the mood strikes you. Thanks.”

Some appreciative clapping and slapping of backs.

“Second thing. The stars have forged a few new bonded mates in the pack. Everyone put em together for Naim, Reina, and Morna.” Dee pauses for the applause and wolf whistles. “Freii and Galor.” Another round. “And, uh. Me and Nicholas.”

“Oooh shit!” crows Kell. "Get it, girl!" A ripple of laughter courses through the crowd as they cheer.

A queer emptiness chambers itself in Anise’s stomach. The world is weightless somehow, like everything could drift into the sky. Good for Nick and Dee. She applauds with the rest of them.

“Okay, okay.” Dee's face colors as she gestures for quiet. “So, pack, you know the drill. To the Earthlings who don’t: newly bonded mates get three days off and four days on half duty. It’s kinda like a… The thing after an Earth wedding.”

“Honeymoon!” Thekla calls.

“Right. Reduced workload until the imprinting levels out and we get used to it. Otherwise we’re working distracted.” Dee is rubbing her thigh against Nick’s leg, as inconspicuously as she can manage. “That means I’m turning leadership over to the seneschal for a while.” The packmistress gives Rarek a light punch on the shoulder with the hand that isn’t stuck in Nick’s back pocket.

Rarek issues a grunt and a brief wave.

“He has my voice and my steel. We’ll take a week and then we’ll check in. That goes for all the new mates. Try and get some cooties out of your system by then, so you ain’t drooling all over your damn chores.”

Graila tsks. “Talking bout drool when you got your hand down Nick Voraag’s pants.”

“In his pocket isn’t down his pants, Grail.” Dee pulls her hand back into view with an accusatory finger. “Anyway, I’ll be back in charge by next week. If you decide I’m giving the junior packmate here preferential treatment, tell the seneschal and he’ll come round to spray me with a garden hose.”

That gets another laugh from her people.

“Now I gotta kill the mood,” Dee says. “Today we cross into Tarouna. So no more decentralized kingdoms, no more camping and hunting where we want. All land is property of the Suzerain.”

A chorus of boos.

“Look, I’m not saying I like it, all right? But this place is buttoned up, so we’re buttoned up too. We’ll rely on our stocks, which are full enough, and on hunting permits if we find a town that’ll issue one. But no tree-cutting. They get very sensitive over that shit. You use the stockpile if you need to, but I prefer you stick to generators and space heaters. The evening campsites are all pre-negotiated, so we gotta stay in them. Anise over here knows the spots, so you all defer to her.”

Dee gives a cheerful salute to Anise. She returns it nervously.

“And there’s something you should all be aware of.” Dee’s smile melts away as she turns back to her pack. “Heard it on the almanac. There’s been dragon sightings in Tarouna.”

Anise’s heart skips a beat as the pack murmurs to itself. Scowls and frowns.

“It’s not worth worrying overmuch about, but I wouldn’t keep it from you.” Dee’s fist rests on the stock of her revolver. “We end up in a confrontation somehow, we know what to do. We’ve done it before. All right, pack.” She brings the smile back. Her hand has strayed back to Nick’s butt. “I’m signing off for the week. You listen to Rarek—if he ever actually talks to ya—and you listen to Ms. Cantator. Keep making me proud. Dismissed.”

The orcs disperse. Before Anise can get in front of Dee, the packmistress is pulling her new mate back to their yurt. He murmurs something to her that provokes a sparkling, girlish giggle. You heard what she said. Rarek’s your point person now.

“Damn, dude. Nick and Dee, huh?” Kell grins at the departing couple. “Good for them. I remember how that shit feels.”

Thekla elbows her. “What do you mean, remember?”

“You know what I mean, girl. Like when I first imprinted and I couldn’t go ten seconds without it. It doesn’t fade, but you get good at controlling it.”

“Controlling it?” Thekla titters. “Tell that to the busted vase Dalma made us.”

“Okay, that shit was not my fault, baby. The RV shelves are mad unstable.”

“I guess that conversation about signing him on permanently is out the window,” Evan muses. “Nick Voraag’s made his choice.”

“Dude, what if they formed their own thing?” Kell scratches her stomach. “Dee’s doing bass now, Nick’s a guitar god. And we all know orcs love drumming.”

“Anise, you’ve played with them a few times, right?” Thekla’s prompt snaps Anise out of a miasma of anxiety.

“What? Oh. Yeah. They’re good.” Anise seeks the warmth of her coffee thermos and realizes she left it in her yurt. “I’ve gotta go. Sorry.”

She hurries away, trying to catch up to Dee and Nick before they leave the central circle. “Guys. Hey. Wait up a second.” She needs to wrap her head around this. Dee’s just giving up the reins of the pack? So she can bang Nick all day?

Easy, Anise. It’s not that simple. It’s a facet of orc biology. She knows that. Kell went through the same thing, came out the other side her normal self. This is Dee being responsible.

Dee halts, but Anise can tell she’s restless. Her thighs are squirming together. “What’s up, hon?” Nick’s hand is crawling up the back of her leg.

“Um.” Anise was on her way to file some kind of complaint, but she’s snuffed her own protest. “Congratulations, you two.”

Dee beams. “Thanks, Ani. I know it ain’t exactly opportune timing, but I promahh.” She lets out a breathy squeak. “Nick,” she giggles. “Two seconds, man.”

He gives them a guilty look that reminds Anise of Kell when her switch is flipped. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Seriously. I should really go talk to Rarek.” Anise is already backing away. “Go, uh, have fun.”

They just about trip over each other as they hurry uphill, back toward Dee’s yurt.

Anise catches up with the taciturn seneschal as he gives orders to his team. “Korky’s pregnant again. No harness on her. Redistribute her load, half to Doink and half to Flash. He should be old enough to haul, but monitor him.”

Anise has never heard Rarek say this many words. “Rarek. Talk a second?”

“Yes. One moment. Parag, you’re on radio.”

The young orc snaps a salute and returns to his rhino. Dalma Kamiyon is sitting on it sidesaddle, sharpening her black-dyed claws. She’s been riding with Parag a lot lately; he’s too intimidated by her to refuse.

Rarek leads her a few paces from anyone else’s earshot. “How can I help, ma’am?”

“Are you okay with this? Taking over?”

“Yes.”

“So, this is the usual procedure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think Dee’ll be back when she’s planning on it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you worried in any way that Nick’ll have an outsized influence on the pack?”

“No.”

Anise rubs her face. Rarek is not a conversationalist. “What did Dee mean about the dragon? Why would it confront you?”

“Dragons can enslave orcs,” Rarek says. “Packs have been taken before.”

“What?”

“They can force you to imprint on them,” Rarek says. “They take your mind from you. Long time ago, the old dracotyrants enslaved armies of us.”

“Jesus Christ.” Anise shivers. She had no idea. “So, when Dee said ‘we know what to do,’ does that mean…”

“We see a dragon in the wild, we kill it.” He hesitates, then gives her a pat on the shoulder that he probably means to be reassuring. “No reason to think it’ll happen. Just being careful. You need anything else from me, ma’am?”

Anise swallows to get the moisture back into her throat. “No, no. I should let you get back to it.”

He nods, then returns to his post, giving out more brusque orders to his packmates.

Anise needs her coffee right fucking now.

She’s halfway into her yurt when Dee comes next door. She knows this because Dee cries “I’m gonna fucking come!” in a high, strained register that Anise has never heard from the packmistress before, and then there’s a strangled wail that is muffled halfway through, into a lustful, jostled hum. She hears the rhythmic percussion of their bodies. They are not being gentle.

Looks like she’s gotta move her tent again.

* * *

They pack as efficiently under Rarek as they ever did with Dee at the helm, and by late morning, they’re moving again. Anise returns to the trailer and takes the next leg of the journey with Legendary. She lays her head on the windowpane and watches the rhino riders. Dee and Nick are side by side, as close as their mounts will let them be. She’s telling him some kind of story that requires wide gesticulations; she mimes throwing a spear and he bursts out laughing.

That’s the end of riding with Dee, then. Probably for the best. It made her feel things she shouldn’t have.

Kell plops onto the seat next to her, rests her combat boots on the fold-out table. “Hey, girl.”

“Hi, Kell.”

“You ever look out at these guys and remember holy fuck, we’re in the O-Dub?” Kell’s face is a portrait of gentle awe. “Like, this is insane. The rhino riders are real. We’re hanging out with them.”

“What gets me is how they have all the paperwork we do,” Anise says. “More, even. For these Tarouna campsite permits, I had to fill out fishing waivers for every stop. The first one’s a day’s walk from any river. Seriously, what are we gonna fish in? The outhouses?”

Kell chuckles. “I guess some things are just universal. So, uh, Ani.” Her voice lowers. “Are you doing okay?”

Evan and Thekla sit on the other side of the RV, attempting the Lordling Exomarch for the sixth time. Anise is trying hard not to backseat them, but this boss fight is so easy if you gear up for radiant resistance. “Sure,” she says. “Why would I not be okay?”

“It’s just that Dee and Nick are mated up now, and I dunno. Not trying to make you over-share or anything. But we thought you might be bummed about it.”

“Whaaat?” Anise is too loud and forced with this. Evan glances up their way. “That’s—I’m happy for them. Seriously. I mean, it’s kinda annoying to have the packmistress out of rotation for a week, but Rarek’s doing fine.”

“All right.” Kell’s gray eyes settle on Anise’s. “That’s good. But if there’s anything you need a friend to listen to, we’re here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Love you, Ani.” Thekla calls. “Oh, fuck off. That windup is so fucking fast. We need to retreat and level up more.”

“Tag me in.” Evan lifts the controller from Thekla’s hands. “This is real sweaty, babe.”

“It’s a sweaty game, okay?” Thekla hops off of Evan’s lap and sits with Kell and Anise. “We’ve heard you a few times, y’know. You and Nick and Dee practicing. You guys sound good. I know they’re out there dryhumping all day right now, but once they’re back, you oughta keep going.”

“Not much of a point to it,” Anise says. “We’re already almost halfway through the tour. Then they’re staying and I’m going back. And I don’t think they really need me anymore.”

“Everyone needs a drummer, dude,” Kell says. “That’s the best part of being a drummer.”

Anise sighs. “Maybe if we’d started earlier.”

“You’re always going to have a remarkably reasonable-sounding voice telling you it’s too late to do something.” Evan’s put the game down. “And the more you listen to it, the later it gets.”

A scream from the game as his character dies. He ignores it.

“It’s up to you, obviously,” Thekla says. “But we’ve been working up the courage to ask for some shotgun shows in some of these towns. Like, we’ve got a lot of downtime. I don’t know how that works without social media, but we could figure something out. And if Quillbear wanted to split a bill at some point once you got a few songs under your belt, maybe open for us…”

“How do you know we’re called Quillbear?”

“Dee mentioned it.” Kell grins. “She’s really high on the concept, dude. She was talking you up.”

Anise feels the hard lump in her chest softening. “She was?”

“Hand to God she was.” Kell puts on an exaggerated Old World brogue. “Holy heck Kell playin’ with a good drummer is so much fun, did you know Anise can really tear shit up, come listen to us sometime, blah blah blah.”

“Huh.” Anise looks back out at Dee, who’s trying to catch bits of jerky in her mouth that Nick is tossing to her. “And you guys want to play more shows?”

“It’s been discussed now and then,” Thekla says, sheepishly.

“I have to think about it.” Anise feels the tug of a smile. “But maybe.”